Page 23 of The CEO's Obsession

I nod, recalling our late-night conversations in art school, dreaming of the day we'd see our own work hanging in those hallowed spaces.

"It's gone, Harper. All of it. Blackwood Development bought up the entire block and tore it down. There are luxury condos there now, with a Starbucks on every corner."

My stomach lurches. I think of the sketches Mason had praised just last week, my plans for a series exploring theintersection of nature and urban decay. How could he have looked at those with such enthusiasm, knowing what he'd done?

"But that's not all," Tyler continues, his eyes never leaving mine. "Remember Joanna? The sculptor who mentored us during that summer workshop?"

My throat tightens. Joanna had been like a second mother to us, nurturing our talents and pushing us to explore beyond our comfort zones.

"Her studio was in an old warehouse in Oakland. She'd been there for twenty years, Harper. It was a landmark, a gathering place for the whole arts community." Tyler's voice breaks. "Blackwood bought the building, evicted everyone with barely a month's notice. Joanna lost everything—her workspace, her equipment, decades of unfinished projects."

Tears sting my eyes as I picture Joanna's warm smile, her hands always covered in clay. The thought of her life's work destroyed is almost too much to bear.

"And it's not just California," Tyler presses on. "He's been doing this all over the country. New York, Chicago, Austin—anywhere there's a thriving arts scene, Blackwood swoops in and turns it into overpriced apartments and chain stores."

I glance out the window, my gaze finding Mason. He's still there, watching us intently. The man I thought I knew—passionate, supportive, with a deep appreciation for creativity—seems to dissolve before my eyes. In his place stands a stranger, cold and calculating.

"But why?" I whisper, my voice barely audible over the clinking of cups and saucers around us. "Why would he do this?"

Tyler's expression softens. "Money, Harper. It's always about money. Those funky old buildings artists love? They're sitting on prime real estate. Blackwood sees

I struggle to process Tyler's words, my mind reeling. Could it really be true? Had Mason been using me, manipulating my passion for art for his own gain this whole time?

"There's more," Tyler says gravely, leaning in closer. "Harper, he's dangerous. Like, seriously dangerous. I've been digging into his past, and there are rumors...people who've crossed him or gotten in the way of his developments have a way of disappearing."

A chill runs down my spine. I think of Mason's intensity, the barely contained violence I've sensed lurking beneath his polished exterior.

"What are you saying?" I whisper, though part of me already knows.

Tyler's eyes are filled with fear and concern. "I'm saying we need to get you out of here. Now. Before he realizes what I'm telling you."

I glance out the window again. Mason is still there, watching us like a hawk. His piercing blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see something dark and possessive flash across his face.

My heart pounds as I turn back to Tyler. "I can't just leave," I say, though my resolve is crumbling. "My art, my studio..."

"We'll figure it out," Tyler insists. "But right now, we need to go. I have a car waiting around the corner."

I nod, finally accepting the gravity of the situation. As we stand to leave, I cast one last look at Mason through the window.

His eyes narrow, sensing something is wrong. I watch in horror as he starts to move towards the café, his face a mask of fury.

"Run," Tyler hisses, grabbing my hand.

We burst out of the café and sprint down the cobblestone street, the sound of Mason's angry shouts echoing behind us.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Mason

What the actual fuck?Is this dude really trying to run off with Harper?

MyHarper?

I don’t know what the fuck he said to her, but I see the fearful look in Harper’s eyes when she glances back over her shoulder at me.

It guts me. How can she be afraid of me like that?

---